


Salty Dog

by dracox_serdriel



Series: Another Chance at the Brass Ring, or Season 9 Fan Fiction [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A Little More Human, Alternate Season/Series 09, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels, Angels are Dicks, Brotherly Estrangement, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Castiel/Dean Winchester Angst, Conspiracy, Crocotta, Demons, Destiel - Freeform, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gen, Hellhounds, Hunters, Hybrids, Kitsune, M/M, Mild Language, Monster mash, Object scorched with Holy Fire, Omens, Phoenixes, Reapers, Sirens, Skinwalkers - Freeform, Slash, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, djinn, everything changes, multiple locations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:33:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracox_serdriel/pseuds/dracox_serdriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Packs of monstrous dogs materialize across the USA. Still divided from recent events, the Winchesters stem the tide of the hounds and attempt to uncover their origins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Plan B

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers** : All episodes through 08x20 Pac-Man Fever.

**Tok, Alaska**. Sidney raced back to the truck, tossing her gear in then throwing herself over and into the back as the pickup rolled forward. 

"Punch it!" Sidney yelled to the driver, Scott, who promptly geared up to forty-five. She turned to her partner Cedric and barked, "We got silver bullets?"

"Sure," Cedric lifted up his shotgun. "Lots, but I thought this was a Rugaru."

"It was, but there's – "

She didn't need to complete her sentence. A howl fluttered up and trigged the resound of a large pack. Cedric and Sidney armed themselves.

"Werewolves?" 

"Not like the ones I've seen."

The pack of ten that raced towards the three hunters looked like ravenous lions in dog form. They glowed bright blue under the moonlight, and together they moved as if one unit. 

Bang! The lead dog took the hit and kept bounding forward, gaining ground on the pickup that was pushing fifty. 

Cedric nailed one of the dogs with his shotgun, taking its head off. The rest of the pack trampled over their fallen member. Sidney hit two more in the heart, taking both down, but the pack gained on them.

"Plan B!" Sidney shouted, "You hear me, Scott?"

"Plan B!" Scott bellowed back as confirmation. 

"Hell no," Cedric said as he and his partner both ducked down into the truck bed for the turn.

Sidney nudged him, "You need to suit up. Now!"

He struggled with the heavy container as Scott pulled a sideways sliding turn, which put them at a ninety-degree angle to the pack.

The dogs were only about ten feet from them now. Cedric and Sidney stood straight up and put their right feet on the rim of the truck's side for height. With flamethrowers secured, they sent spurts of fire towards the onslaught.

Scott popped through the sunroof and started picking off dogs from the side with his shotgun.

The heat and wail of burning dogs filled the air. The remaining five members retreated, rolling on the ground to extinguish their coats. Sidney switched back to her gun and began to put them down. "Com'on boys, we don't wanna start a forest fire here!"

 

"Are you sure they weren't just pureblood werewolves?" Dean said into his phone.

"Not unless purebloods travel with about a dozen other," Garth replied, "and know how to stop, drop, and roll."

Dean looked over at Sam, who was at his computer sifting through the files Garth sent him.

"You said fire took them down?"

"Well, fire definitely made them run," Garth replied, "but the hunters on the case used silver bullets or head shots, just in case."

"Okay, so, some kind of whacked-out werewolf pureblood festival?"

"I could live with that if the other areas were remote like Alaska," Garth said thoughtfully. "But in New Mexico and Maine? They were near pretty big towns."

"Gimme the phone," Sam said to Dean. "Hey, Garth – "

"Sam!"

"Did the hunters keep the bodies?"

"Nah, they burned them all."

"Did anyone, you know, dissect them or anything before lighting them on fire?"

"I'm gunna say, no," Garth said. "From what folks are tellin' me, these things are nasty. Like, rip you apart kinda nasty."

"No missing hearts," Sam commented, reading the files. "You sure?"

"Trust me, I asked twice."

"Okay, Garth, we'll look into this," Sam said. "Just keep us in the loop, okay?"

Dean paced the war room with his beer in hand. "So, we got superwolves on parade in three different places with nothing to connect them?"

"Seems to be," Sam replied curtly. 

"Awesome," Dean remarked. 

The older Winchester continued to pace. He should be mulling over this latest hunter catastrophe; instead, his mind kept circling back to Castiel's absence. 

Before he could stop himself, Dean asked, "When did he leave?"

"Who?"

"Cas."

"Uh, he was here for about a day doing research," Sam replied idly. He didn't pull his eyes away from his computer. 

"Two hours ago? Three?" 

"Uh, about an hour before you got back."

Dean drank the rest of his beer. "Are you looking at porn?" he shot at his brother. 

Sam returned a very confused look. "No – "

"Because I don't think I've seen a guy concentrate so much when it's not porn," Dean cut him off.

"I get it," Sam snapped back. "You're pissed Cas isn't here but that doesn't mean this case isn't important."

"Or, some werewolves just took some PCP," Dean dismissed. "We don't know the hunters who called this shit in."

"Garth does."

After several minutes of silence, Dean spoke up, "So this is how it's going to be?"

"What did you expect?" 

"You don't need to be a bitch just because you're pissed."

"You don't need to be a dick just because you fucked up."

"I fucked up?" Dean challenged.

"You are the definition of fucked up." 

"What did you just say to me?" Dean said as he closed in on his brother.

"People are being ripped to shreds by monsters that we've never seen before, and maybe we could've stopped it if you were straight with me weeks ago."

Dean stared down his brother, who didn't blink. On the premise of getting another beer, he stalked off to the kitchen. 

After tossing the bottle into the recycling bin, he pulled a letter out of his pocket and read it over again. 

 

Dear Dean:

I know you desire my safety, and for that I am both sorry and appreciative. In return for raising Benny, I have promised my aid to Kuravi, the first phoenix, for a task that demands the abilities of an angel. 

In accordance with your request for "space," I committed this information to paper, but I do wish to remind you, should you need my help, you need only ask.

Love and devotion for you always,  
Castiel


	2. Omens

Sam marked out the events around Tok, Alaska to see if they'd match up with those from Maine and New Mexico. He didn't know what to look for. Demonic omens usually presented as crop failures, freak weather events, or even a rise in local crime. With no demons left on the planet, however, he wasn't sure if anything would herald supernatural events. 

"Woah," Sam whispered. 

His eyes raked over the data again. Hail storms, then forest fires, then a sequence of tornadoes. Each area also had associated mutant births, such as snakes with two heads or puppies with three tails. For a week before the monster dogs appeared, nature went completely out of whack. 

Sam built an alert monitor given the events as general parameters. As soon as he finished the profile, he got a response. 

"Holy crap! Dean!" Sam yelled to the kitchen.

"What?" 

"Pack a bag!"

 

 **Catacomb Island, North Pole**. Castiel stood on a forsaken piece of rock in the middle of the Arctic Ocean.

"This should not be here," the angel remarked. 

"That's why no one's ever found this place," Kuravi said. "The catacombs are below."

"You are certain this is where you were held captive?" 

"I am certain," she replied. "When I was first lured to this place, the Pole Star was different." She looked up at the sky, as if attempting to recreate that moment.

"My power is diminished here," Castiel commented.

"Mine as well."

"Where are the other prisoners?"

"Below, in the catacombs," Kuravi explained. "Here, let me take you there."

Fire and ash bloomed over the frozen island as they disappeared below.

 

Dean sat behind the wheel with Sam riding shotgun. 

"Where're we headed?" 

"Abbeville, South Carolina," Sam said mechanically. 

"I get it, you're pissed with me," Dean said, "but I need to know, do you know what Cas is working on?"

"No, he just told me he needed to do some research."

"Didn't you ask?"

Sam laughed scornfully. "Seriously Dean?"

"Seriously, Sam," Dean snapped, "his life is on the line every second he's out in the open."

"Then maybe you should call him and make up with him."

"So you're saying you just don't care about him at all now?" 

"No, I'm saying I'm done being your middleman. Stop acting like an idiot and call him."

"I think you should know, then, that - "

"Benny's alive and at the badlands cabin you set up for him?" Sam completed. "Cas told me."

"I planned to," Dean said curtly. 

"You know what? Never mind," Sam said, "I don't tell you everything, why should you?"

"You don't?"

"No, I don't."

"Okay, let's, uh, focus on the case," Dean deflected. "You got a handle on what we're dealing with?"

"No, and the other hunters didn't bother to figure out what these things are."

"Fire, silver, headshots," Dean listed. "That's basically a monster mash, right?"

"I guess."

Uncomfortable silence filled the car.

 

Scott hauled his truck into the lcoal repair shop in Tok. Enormous mutant dogs were one thing, but the flamethrowers wrecked the bed of the truck, the tires, and even the paint job along one side. Clearly the hunters that enlisted him understood this, having pinned a thousand extra dollars to his sun visor before they left town.

"Do I even want to ask?" Tammy, the shop's owner, asked when she laid eyes on Scott's truck. 

"Let's just say, I got more than I bargained for," Scott said. "Can you give me good news?"

"I can fix her, sure. Give me at least three days."

"I can handle that."

"One of my boys'll give you a lift home," she insisted. "Overhead lights are crap out here at night, don't want you hit by a car before you can pay me."

Before Scott had a chance to reply, he heard a high howl. It wasn't a wolf or a dog. The sound made his heart freeze. 

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Tammy said.

A huge gash appeared across her stomach and chest. Her insides spilled out as she screamed. 

Scott ran, trying to get out of the garage, but he didn't even make it three steps before an invisible force fell upon him, slicing through his flesh.

 

Sam slept like a rock while Dean tossed over and over again in the cheap sheets of his motel bed. 

He wanted to reach out to Cas, to check in with him, to say he was an idiot and he's sorry. But Naomi had been clear; she wasn't about to lift her heavenly hit on Cas, which meant Dean would have to wait a little longer.

Part of him was ready to blurt his conversation with Metatron through a prayer, but he waited. That was the kind of discussion you had face to face.

The last few days bogged Dean down. He missed Cas. He had missed Sam while they were apart, but now that he was back on a case with him, he wanted to cut and run. He resented dealing with Sam's disappointment and bitch attitude. Dean's guilt over it all wasn't make it any easier.

But none of that changed the fact that they had super-monsters tearing people apart all over the country. So he'd have to suck it up and just deal. 

Dean rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. Either he was going to fall asleep, or he was going to suffocate.

 

The next morning at a local diner in Abbeville, Sam waited patiently for Dean, who insisted on gathering several "Kittens with two tails for adoption" posters before they ate. 

"This is whacked," Dean said as he dropped one of the posters on the table. "One cat has three tails. Three."

"That's not good. I thought we had more time."

Dean motioned to the waiter. "Care to elaborate?" he said to his brother.

"Can I help you?" the waiter asked. 

"Yes, uh," Sam spotted his name take, "John. I'll have a coffee, black, and the silver stack. Side of bacon."

"Orange juice, coffee, and steak and eggs with the ham and bacon side," Dean added. "Thanks."

John took their order and left.

"The last sign before the mega-pups appeared was the animals with too many heads or tails."

"Too many heads? Seriously?" 

"Yep."

"Any insight on what we're up against?" 

"Since yesterday? No," Sam said. "I'm thinking we're dealing with something new."

"New monsters?" Dean inquired sarcastically. "Come on, Sam, the last time we met a new monster was that conworm thing that Eve made."

"There's a reason Garth dialed us in a panic," Sam pointed out. "It's not like he doesn't have all of Bobby's info up in his head."

"We've got Bobby's info," Dean corrected.

"You know what I mean."

They both stopped as John delivered their food and coffee with a simple, "Enjoy."

"Thanks," Dean said, grabbing his fork.

Once the waiter cleared, Dean continued, "I was looking at those photos in the files Garth sent. You know what they made me think of?"

"Ghouls?" 

"That Jersey-Devil-Crazy-Guy," Dean replied. "Look, ghouls chow down on already-dead things. Wendigos and leviathan, they eat and don't leave leftovers. No missing hearts, so that eliminates most of the other monsters. Maybe some of Dick's special sauce is still out there and someone's tapped into it."

"And fed it to dogs?" Sam asked, "Then let them all loose on the same night?"

"Eat your damn pancakes."

 

Avaida opened the office door and waited for approval before entering.

"You have news?" Naomi asked. 

"Yes," Avaida said. 

Naomi listened to the angel's latest reports with dread on her face. "We'll need to assign two people to the prophet, quietly. He won't like the angels following him, but we can't take the risk."

"Invisible assignment?"

"Yes, don't disturb his daily routine," Naomi explained. "Reports every half hour."

"Would you like me to return to my post?"

"Yes, for now Avaida, thank you."

 

In the motel room, Sam mapped the events, looking for some kind of nexus of the supernatural activity.

He jolted when Castiel appeared.

"Hello Sam," he said pleasantly.

"Cas, damn it," Sam replied. "Look, you and Dean need to figure out how to be around each other – "

"That's not why I'm here, and I don't have much time."

"Okay."

"You said you could see hellhounds?" 

"Uh, yeah, through objects scorched with holy fire, we have some glasses – "

Cas waved his hand and suddenly had Dean's large plastic glasses in his palm. "May I borrow these?" he asked.

"Of course, but – "

"I'm sorry, I'll contact you as soon as possible." 

The flutter of wings echoed as the angel disappeared.

 

Dean shoved the door open and dropped a bag of burgers on the table next to Sam's computer.

"I found a half dozen other places with mutant animals," Dean tossed his brother a map with starred locations. "Some people said they'd seen two-headed lizards, not sure if I believe them, but since they're not pets – "

" – they'd be hard to track," Sam completed. "We might have enough to figure out the center of everything."

"You think?" 

"And, uh, Cas dropped in."

"He did?"

"Yeah, asking about hellhounds."

Dean gaped at Sam. "Sorry, I must've misheard you, I thought you said hellhounds."

Sam shrugged, "He borrowed your x-ray specs."

"Didn't he elaborate?" Dean demanded.

"He didn't have a lot of time. He said he'd update us when he got a chance."

"So, what, Cas is off finding hellhounds?" Dean paced. "What kind of sense does that make?"

"Maybe a lot of sense. You said it this morning, the bodies these things leave behind are all wrong. Add in demonic omens cropping up for the first time in months. Color me crazy, but maybe Cas is onto something."

"Garth said hunters could see them, and kill them with just silver bullets and fire."

"That's true, they're more like werewolves than hellhounds, which probably means..." Sam started rambling out loud. By the time he got to the topic of genetic hybridization, Dean's brain felt like it was trying to make a break for it out his left ear.

"Sam, Sammy!" Dean interrupted. "Can you give me the non-nerd-pro-quo here?"

Holding back his desire to correct his brother, Sam said, "You can't just drag demons back on earth. Otherwise, people would summon them. Closing the gates banished them from crossing into this plane, so they've gotta make hybrids."

"Demonic hybrids?"

"That's my best guess. Maybe hellhound/werewolf, or even hellhound/shifter, I don't know."

"So this can't just be PCP werewolves?"

"Dean."

"Right, sorry. Reality."

 

Castiel touched down in Tok outside the repair shop. He examined the mangled corpses and the ruined vehicles before he followed the tracks. Hellhounds were never very subtle animals, but the glasses he borrowed from Sam revealed everything to him. He kept so focused on his task that he forgot the world. He didn't notice that someone followed him. 

As Cas pushed into the woods, he followed a trail that led him to a clearing full of blood. He made a mental note to tell Dean that a grizzly bear could indeed be beaten by something; the hellhounds had made short work of it. 

He heard a rustle in the leaves. They were nearby. He drew his blade and waited, trying to anticipate their point of attack. He couldn't be sure, but from what he'd seen, there must be two hounds nearby. 

No, three hounds. He heard them circling. Hellhounds usually had a master, a demon who kept on a leash, but these were free, like wild animals. Castiel did not like the implications. 

Two hounds howled to the south and east, but neither approached him. Instead, the third raced from the north. The dog didn't flinch when the angel faced it head on. 

As the hellhound leapt for his neck, he calmly plunged the blade into the beast's throat, sidestepping the attack with ease. The other two hounds bounded towards him from east and west, and he impaled one through the heart. The remaining dog latched its claws into Castiel's vessel and tore down, leaving a gapping wound from shoulder to thigh.

Before it could shift its weight, the angel thrust the blade into its neck, nearly decapitating it. 

Castiel threw the sputtering mutt of his arm and healed his vessel. He gathered the remains and burned them. He waited with the fire, just to be certain no more hounds were nearby. He'd been surprised in Maine when the black sheep of the pack snuck up on him. He wasn't about to let that happen again.

He felt uneasy, like something was wrong, or someone was watching him. Either way, he promised Sam that he'd return, so he took in his surroundings, and when he found them empty, the angel vanished. 

Naomi had observed everything, not from her high post, but from the earth, standing invisibly on solid ground. Whatever her feelings towards Castiel, he was an excellent soldier. She couldn't figure out how he was able to see the hounds of hell, but she assumed it had something to do with the Winchesters. It always seemed to anyway. 

She took a sample of the ash for tests, then followed Cas's trail.


	3. Transmigration of Souls

"Okay, okay, I've got it," Sam marked the map. "Hilton Oaks Cemetery."

"Assuming your... technomapping crap is right, how much time do we have?" 

"If the pattern holds, just past dusk tonight."

"Awesome."

"We need a curse box." 

"For what?"

"The bodies."

"Why?"

Sam wondered if Dean was being intentionally dense to force conversation, but he answered anyway. "Because we need to figure out what these things are, Dean, that's why. So we kill them, box them up, then haul them someplace."

"All right, I'll rent us a truck and a trailer, we can haul Fido and Co. off with us," Dean agreed quickly. "You think a devil's trap will work?"

"Add everything you can think of," Sam replied. "I'll work on getting ammunition ready."

Just as he got up, Castiel reappeared wearing Dean's hellhound-spotting glasses.

"Hello," he said.

"Cas – "

"I'm sorry, I don't have much time. Someone is following me."

"What's going on?" Dean asked.

"Hellhounds are back on earth, I just killed ten of them."

Cas placed the glasses, a jar of paste, and his angel blade on the bed. 

"Cas, you won't be able to defend – " Dean protested. 

"Don't worry about me," the angel interrupted. "Be careful."

Without another word, he teleported.

"Cas!" Dean shouted. "Damn it, Cas!"

Still hidden, Naomi watched. She made to follow Castiel, but something prevented her from moving. Wherever he went, she was blocked from that place. She hated how he eluded her. She observed the Winchesters a little longer, waiting for the right time to teleport home. 

"You heard him, don't worry," Sam said. "He'll be fine."

"You don't know that."

"He didn't drop by to flirt, Dean. He came back to give us an edge," Sam went over to the bed and picked up the angel blade. "This works on hellhounds, and now we can both see them."

"This is the crap Cas used to heal me?" Dean asked, holding the jar. 

"Uh, yeah, in case we're torn limb from limb I guess."

"Not funny."

"Don't be pissy with me because you haven't made up with your boyfriend yet."

Naomi flinched. She had confirmation. She knew Castiel and Dean were close, but she didn't know, not with certainty, that their relationship had physical, human intimacy. 

"First of all, you said you'd agree to 'partner'," Dean shot back at Sam. "And, secondly...screw you."

"Go get the damn truck," Sam said. In spite of himself, he was happy. He'd been pissed at Dean for lying to him, but right now, letting it go didn't seem so hard. 

As Dean slammed the door behind him, Naomi took advantage of the noise to cover her transport back to heaven.

 

Sam dug through the odds and ends of the Impala's trunk, moving over silver bullets and flare guns. He stopped when he found a heavy leather bag that Charlie passed off to him. He'd forgotten all about it weeks ago.

He opened it and rolled his eyes: LARP costumes. He had half a mind to throw it away.

"For Mondo monster madness," Charlie had said. Sam ran his hands over the costumes. She wouldn't go to the trouble of LARP costumes and not label them. No, she made these, or had someone make them, for hunting. 

"What the hell?" Sam said as he yanked the bag out and added it to the rented pickup.

 

"Really Sam?" Dean asked as he pulled at the heavy jacket. "This thing is slowing me down."

"And will probably save your ass."

They stomped towards a mausoleum on the grounds of the cemetery. It was a huge, marble structure that made the rest of the graveyard look small. Carved into its face was the name 'Bannister.'

"We've got about an hour before dusk, so let's make it count," Sam whispered.

"Right." 

Dean pulled out kerosene and plotted circles around the mausoleum like a moat. 

"Crap," Sam said. "Got company."

In the eastern part of the cemetery, a small group of people gathered around a grave. They didn't take any notice of Sam or Dean. 

"You think they're legit?" Dean asked.

"What?"

"Well, if I was a witch with my hand caught in the cookie jar – "

" – you'd kill whoever caught you," Sam completed. "What's wrong with you?"

"Okay, well, we need to get these people out of here."

"You want to send a bunch of grieving family away from the grave of their love one?"

"Which is about to be covered with evil dogs of doom," Dean retorted.

"Fine, I'll handle it. But that means you gotta look for hex bags."

Dean ducked into the building as Sam made for the group. One of the six people around the headstone broke away to head Sam off.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm Agent Freemount with the FBI," Sam said, holding up a fake badge. 

The woman noticed Sam's graceless movements under the heavy costume, barely covered by his long overcoat. 

"FBI?" she repeated. "In a cemetery?"

"You are?"

"Olivia," she replied. "I'm here with friends visiting someone we buried less than a week ago, so if you don't mind, we – "

"Olivia," Sam cut her off. "My partner and I are here investigating a possible grave robber who we believe is responsible for killing three people."

"You can't expect me to believe you're FBI, wearing that," she indicated his coat and jeans. "You look like the Michelin man."

"The person we tracked here is highly dangerous and doesn't hesitate to shoot. Not law enforcement, not people in mourning." Sam softened his voice, "I am very sorry for your loss, I am. I just don't want you to lose anymore. Please, can you get your friends out of here?"

Olivia slouched. He couldn't tell if she believed him, or if she was just playing it safe, but she said, "Fine. But I'm not telling them about the grave robber."

"Thank you, Olivia – ?" Sam indicated he wanted to know her last name.

"Bannister," she replied. She walked to her friends and herded them off to their cars. 

"We're clear," Sam said to Dean.

"I didn't see any sigils, but this marble dungeon over here has dozens of places for hex bags," Dean babbled. "I didn't find any in the normal places. We might need to crack open a few to be sure."

Sam poked his head in and saw what Dean meant. The interior was ornately carved with three dimensional statues and figures from floor to ceiling. Hundreds of nooks and crannies, and a witch need only hide one hex bag or coin to make the magic happen. 

"Damn it, we should've gotten here sooner," Sam said.

"So do we look for Easter eggs now, or what?"

"That'll take hours we don't have. It's gonna be dusk in thirty minutes."

"Okay, then, let's get ready for Fido and Rover."

 

Dusk fell.

"Sam, I just, I wanted to say, I'm sorry," Dean mumbled. "About Benny and the nightmare thing."

"Dean, this isn't just about that. We're about to take on God-knows-what because you sat on information."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"I mean, Benny sent you warnings," Sam replied. "And I get not taking them seriously when they were nightmares, but once you knew they were from Benny, you shoulda said something."

"I didn't know – "

"Don't even try," Sam cut him off. "You thought it was possible. Possible enough that you tried to contact him and risked your life to resurrect him so you could ask."

Sam kept his voice calm, but Dean could hear the anger bubbling up. 

"So you're saying this is my fault?"

"I'm saying I'm tired of your 'I-didn't-want-to-bother-you-with-this' crap. If you told me, we could've worked together on contacting Benny, and maybe this mess could've been prevented. But instead, you lie to me and cover it up and act like you can't trust me."

"That's not – "

"It's not?" Sam asked. "Because you told Cas about it."

A howl stopped their conversation. 

"To be continued," Dean said. Sam nodded.

Both the brothers crouched and peeked out towards the building. Sam's predictions were right; the mausoleum was the center of the activity. Dean spotted the shadowy cloud of a hellhound lurch forward. 

"Damnit," Dean muttered. "Stand back, Sam."

With a rigged flare gun, Dean ignited the kerosene lines that wrapped around the building like a moat.

"Subtle," Sam remarked. "Let's hope the town doesn't want to check out the fire."

"It should slow them down," Dean replied. 

For the most part, he was correct. The hellhounds paced behind the fire, as if unsure if they should cross the line. Bang! Sam shot the first one with salt-and-iron rounds. Bang! Dean added a silver bullet to the mix. Bang! Bang! They kept firing. 

"Seriously?" Dean said. "These are legit hellhounds."

Before either of them could deal with this revelation, the sound of padded feet made them turn in time to see the enormous hybrid monstrosities leaping for their throats. 

Bang! Pop! Both of them got one shot off before being thrown to the ground. Sam felt the weight of the beast on his body, saw its hungry, drooling expression. Its talons clamped down – 

The dogs let out smarting howls as they pushed away from the two brothers. Their paws bled and crackled. 

"Silver chainmail, bitches!" Dean said with unreasonable satisfaction before angling a shot to the heart. 

Sam took down his hybrid pup with similar ease. "Thank you, Charlie," he whispered.

"Maybe don't thank her yet," Dean said. 

As if on cue, the hellhounds stepped over the fire without a hitch.

Angel blade in hand, Sam tried to keep his eyes on one of the hounds. He didn't like the fact that they seemed to know he could see them. That made them smarter, more dangerous –

They charged from either side, pelting towards the Winchesters, not slowed down by the gapping wounds all over their bodies.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Each hound took hits to the head, legs, and chest before finally reaching Sam and Dean. Sam skewered the first on the angel blade; the other took the demon-knife to its left eye.

Panting and covered in sweat, the brothers pushed the dead dogs over just as another howl rang out.

They turned. Another hybrid paced behind the line of fire; unlike the hellhounds, the monster couldn't cross. 

"Looks like you're stuck, chuckles," Dean snarked. 

The hybrid turned and snarled. Two hellhounds, no three, tore at the monstrosity, reducing the thing to strips of blood and flesh behind the fire-moat.

"Hellhounds don't play well with others I guess," Sam said to Dean, preparing himself for the next onslaught. 

"Neither do we," Dean pulled up his shotgun. 

Bang! Bang! Bang! Before they even crossed the now-low fire line, each dog took a heavy beating from the bullets. The first two went straight for the brothers, slamming into them with claws at the ready, not even flinching at the silver chainmail. 

A slash to his outer thigh dropped Sam; he hacked wildly at the chest of the shadowy creature. It snarled in pain as its left front leg ripped away. Had they not embedded the glasses behind their ears, both brothers would've lost them in the Malay. 

Dean managed to sidestep his devil-dog's pounce, stabbing at the dog's back and knocking it to the ground. As he moved in for the kill, he saw the third mutt angling for him, ready to move when Dean let his guard down. He played along, lowering his head and slicing through the hellhound's throat. 

From the ground, Sam tried to take out his own Rover, but even with three legs the damn thing was quick. He rolled up on his good side to get leverage. Once, twice he slashed with the blade and missed. The hellhound lashed out, grabbing for Sam's already-injured leg.

The third dog flew towards Dean's exposed back. But Dean was too quick; he whipped around and rolled towards it, putting himself underneath its belly, and thrust the knife up. As the hellhound crashed down, the blade sliced through it; the wound started behind its forelegs and ran to its hindquarters. Dean didn't miss a beat. He slid from under the thing and stabbed its throat for good measure. 

Just as Dean took out the third arrival, Sam jabbed Cas's blade through the top of his hellhound's mouth. Its dead teeth scrapped along his arm, pulling at the flesh as he dislodged his appendage from its slack maw. Cradling his right arm, he squirmed closer so he could pull the blade out of his fallen enemy. 

Dean pulled Rover off of his brother and knelt over him. "Damn, Sam," he said. "We – "

The fourth hellhound, that's the one they didn't see. With a crash it threw Dean into the air. Sensing Sam's defenselessness, the shadowy beast turned on him and ripped down his front howling in victory. 

Dean didn't stop to think. As soon as he regained his footing from Fido's head-butt, he pounded the ground back to his brother and knifed the sucker in the back. 

Wheeling around, Fido slashed at Dean, clipping his arm and leaving long, deep gashes. With all the adrenaline and strength he had left, Dean seized the hellhound's neck and pulled himself into its face. He felt the hilt of the blade crack against its skull. He'd stabbed it through the ear. 

He scrambled over to Sam, who bled freely from his stomach, chest, and legs. "Sammy – "

"The jar, the salve," Sam said. Blood bubbled out of his mouth. 

"Right, right," Dean said.

He fumbled through his brother's coat pockets to find the jar. It had been cracked, but the paste was so thick that it didn't matter. 

Dean wiped the ash-and-water paste down Sam's front, then his legs and arms. As Sam's flesh knit together, Dean put a little on himself.

"Did we get them all?" Sam asked, his breath finally coming easily again.

"Honestly? I don't know."

The fire had burned out. Apparently it was more subtle than Sam thought, since no one came calling about it. Dean kept watch as Sam packed the dead mutts into the back of the trailer.


	4. Slipstream

Dean and Sam switched watch around two in the morning. Dean made a mental note that sleeping in a rental truck was never a good idea, though he did manage to fall asleep. 

Right before dawn, Sam woke him.

"Dean, come on, you have to see this."

"Of course I do," Dean muttered, "two hours of sleep is too much."

"Put your glasses on," Sam said.

"Huh?"

"Your glasses!" Sam shoved them on his brother's face. 

Dean let himself be pulled into the mausoleum. "What could you possibly – "

"Look, Dean," Sam cut him off.

He did. Parts of the interior were red and dark, almost splotchy. Dean took his glasses off and wiped them, then put them back on.

"Uh, okay, this – "

"You see them too?" Sam asked.

"You mean the weird red and dark splotches, yeah," Dean replied. "Why?"

Sam didn't bother responding. He raced to one of the splotches and groped around. "Aha!" he vocalized, yanking his hand out. Tightly clutched in his palm was a hex bag, emitting a red and black haze. 

"No way, these things can spot witchcraft?"

"Demon-related witchcraft, apparently," Sam said. "There's gotta be a dozen or so of these."

"You wanna collect them all?" Dean said. "What are they, Pokémon?" 

"Your references are terrible at dawn, you know that? We need to see what kind of mojo this witch has, com'on."

Dean muttered to himself about hauling hellhound carcasses and now hex bags as he collected the five nearest to him. 

"I guess I'm driving," Sam said to the still-sleepy Dean as they dropped the hex bags into the curse box. 

Dean climbed into the passenger seat and promptly fell back asleep.

 

Sam pulled the truck into the abandoned warehouse they'd scouted. They hadn't had enough time to prepare it, so after parking in one of the empty loading rooms, Sam let Dean sleep while he prepped with sigils, warding, and traps. 

Dean woke up a few hours later, just as Sam finished dissecting the hex bags. 

"What do we got?" Dean asked unapologetically. 

"Twelve hex bags, each with the same mix with a novelty talisman."

"Talisman? Doesn't that protect you from bad stuff?"

Sam laughed. "Yeah, I don't know what's going on with this, but these talismans are all the same shape, just made from different metals."

Sam held up one of them. 

"Whirlpool," Dean suggested.

"Actually, this is an ancient manifestation of the symbol for mana," Sam replied.

"Oh, now I see it," Dean said sarcastically.

"Why don't you look at the bodies?" 

"What am I looking for?" Dean asked.

He grabbed his glasses and wandered over to the three rows Sam set out. Each dog had its own trap. "How long was I out?" Dean asked. 

"Hours."

Dean started with the hybrid that was torn to shreds by the hellhounds, since there wasn't much left. He poked at it with a knife for a few minutes before Sam cleared his throat. 

"What?" Dean snapped.

"There's a tray of utensils for you, Dean," Sam pointed. 

"I knew that."

Sam identified the metallic composition of the talismans, and he labeled each corresponding hex bag with its contents as he went. Dean admired his brother's methodical nature, even though it also made him a pain in the ass.

Something caught Dean's eye. 

"Huh, I think I've got something."

He used the tongs to grab at a small, shiny object from the soupy remains of the hybrid. 

"What?" Sam said, coming to his side.

"Uh, looks like a metallic whirlpool," Dean said.

"This is just like the talisman in one of the bags – " 

Sam suddenly was everywhere. He wrote labels, dropped tags on carcasses, and barked random orders at Dean. 

After half an hour, Sam took in his work. Each hellhound had one talisman that matched set with one in a hex bag. Each hybrid had a pair. 

"Mix and match," Dean observed. "So, were the hybrids successes or failures?" 

"Best guess? Failures," Sam replied, "Demons want back in as demons, not as monster mash."

"We're screwed."

Sam cast a sideways glance at Dean.

"If you're right, doesn't that mean that each of the hellhounds has a monster buddy that we missed last night?"

"No way, we kept watch, nothing else came through."

"Not here, the monsters from purgatory probably have remains somewhere on earth, so – "

"They can be anywhere," Sam finished miserably. 

"But that's only true if the rumors Benny heard are true," Dean dismissed. "We could be wrong. Maybe they did want hybrids. Something new to throw us off."

"When has our luck ever been that good?"

"They need a name," Dean said thoughtfully.

"What?"

"The hybrids."

"Oh," Sam paused a moment. "Salty Dogs. Salties for short."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, Mr. Jefferson Starships."

"Fine," Dean said. "But Sam, we've got a huge problem, if they had six successes this time, not only are there six monsters out there, but they might've figured out the right mojo."

"We need to find the witch."

"I know that."

"I think I can work a ritual to do that."

"How?"

"Henry said that the blood sigil - the one that time traveled him to us – worked because blood leads to blood. 

"Except in this case, skeevy witch bag leads to well, the skeevey witch bag," Dean commented. "Any chance in hell we can pull the same thing off with the born-again monsters? Using the talisman thingies?"

Sam looked surprised. "That's a great idea."

"I do have those sometimes," Dean shot back.

"Not lately."

"Ha, ha," Dean said dryly. "I get it, I fucked up. Can we focus please?"

"We need to burn the bodies and prep that the witch-killing spell," Sam replied.

"You're bossy today."

"Only when I'm right."

"Shut up."

 

Dean finished the witch-killing spell and built a pyre. He hated waiting to light it, and Sam could feel his impatience oozing out of every pore.

Sam started the tracking spell, which used a patch from one of the hex bags and a map that he set on fire.

"Where did you pick this up?" Dean asked.

"Actually, I saw Ruby do this once, trying to find angels. I found this spell in the Men of Letters archives. You can find specific witches, angels, whatever with the right ingredients."

To avoid commenting on Ruby, Dean busied himself with the cards that labeled the hex bags. 

"Huh, so I guess titanium is the thing, right?" 

Sam looked up from his work. "What?"

"According to these cards, if we're right about the hellhounds being successes... common denominator is titanium for the charm things."

Suddenly Sam was over his shoulder. "That's what they were looking for? The right metal composition?"

"I dunno."

"You're right. All the hellhounds had titanium in their talismans. Lead, nickel, tin, copper, gold, even cobalt combinations..."

"Cobalt? I thought that was a shade of blue?"

"Dean – "

"And how did you figure out what metals these are made of anyway?"

"Junior year chemistry class," Sam replied. 

"You remember shit from chemistry class?"

"Dean, you're missing the point, they've found something that works."

"Uh, no, they didn't, because we have their hex bags and all their experiments."

"Burn them, now," Sam insisted. 

"What about your bitching before, about smoke inhalation and – "

"I found the witch. The Old Steel Factory."

"Please tell me it's an abandoned building with only skeevey witches."

Sam sounded surprised when he said, "Actually, it is."

Dean put his hand on Sam's shoulder aggressively, dramatically. "Listen, we gutted six devil dogs and three wanna be hellmooks turned monsters, we're due for a bit of good luck."

Sam pushed him away and swept the notes and hex bags into the curse box. Dean dribbled more kerosene and set the pyre ablaze. 

They both popped into the pickup, this time with Dean driving, and pulled out once the fire was roaring.

Of course, the Winchesters didn't have a lot of luck, at least not good luck. Had they had even a spec, they would have noticed the woman perched in the beams above.

Olivia had observed them the entire time. At first she thought they were thugs and idiots, but clearly they had some insight, since they could see hellhounds and managed to pilfer all the hex bags. 

'Whoever their source was will die horribly,' she thought to herself as she snuck out the opposite side of the building. 'But at least now I know, titanium is the right texture for preserving two souls.'

 

"I don't blame you," Sam said abruptly.

"You shouldn't, that wasn't me." Dean meant the horrific gas, "Seriously, Sam, no more eggs."

"I'm talking about the nightmares. I don't blame you."

"Could of fooled me."

"I'm not saying I'm not still pissed. I just don't blame you for this," Sam indicated the curse box. "Clearly somone has been planning all this, and truth is, without that insight back there, we'd be shit outa luck in trying to figure out what's happening."

"Not doing us much good from where I'm sitting," Dean replied. "But we do make a damn good team."

"Stating the obvious, if we're stuck in a sitcom again."

"Shut up, Sam."

"Turn left up here," Sam instructed.

 

John Bannister had a feeling that his life was about to change. When he woke up in the morning, he just knew it. Something was going to happen. His sister wasn't home, which wasn't like her, but maybe she finally got up the nerve to ask the chef at the diner out.

He wasn't a psychic; his powers came witchcraft. It was nothing fancy, but his instincts had their own magic. They never led him astray. 

He couldn't get Olivia on the phone, so he decided to go to their circle, where they practiced witchcraft together, out at the Old Steel Factory. 

John sat before the ashwood altar. He knew his sister would return here, so he waited. What could be the harm?

 

Sam led the way into the factory, which was remarkably creepy in appearance, even for the Winchesters. With stealth unnatural to such a large person, he weaved through the halls with Dean right behind. 

They checked room after room for what felt like hours till they finally came to one with electricity. 

A man sat at some kind of altar. Dean recognized him. "That's the waiter from the diner," he whispered. "He's been watching us!"

John stood up when he heard footsteps. "Olivia, you're here!" he said as he turned.

But it wasn't Olivia.

"Ego voco impetu delere vos caelum et infernum!" Dean yelled.

Sam struck a match and lit the bottle, and Dean pitched it towards the witch, whose face was littered with surprise.

Green and then red swirled around, capturing him and enveloping him, with only the words of "Olivia?" passing from his lips.

John Bannister was right; today did change his life.

 

Dean sat shotgun on the ride home, oddly quiet.

"You make up with Cas yet?" Sam asked. 

"What? No, I'm thinking about that witch. It takes major mojo to pull off, whatever it is they're doing."

"That spell only works on witches, Dean, and he was the one who put those hex bags together, that's how I found him."

"Just seems too easy."

"Or maybe we're just good at what we do," Sam said.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Look, we'll track those other monsters and send them back to purgatory. We'll get Garth in on it."

"But there must be others," Dean said. "In other states. Maybe we did derail this experiment, but how can we stop the next one?"

"We track them down and take them out." 

"Seven monsters that could be anything, literally, since it's purgatory, and at least three other witches. Awesome."

"Seriously, you need to talk to Cas."

"This isn't about him – "

"We diverted the apocalypse," Sam interrupted. "We were driven off the grid by Leviathans for almost a year. We've been worse off than this. You're moping because your angel isn't around."

Dean bit his lip, "Shut up."


	5. Undertow

The first monster tracked to Charlotte, North Carolina. It didn't take long to find the skinwalker. After his resurrection, he went on a killing spree and managed to kill half a dozen people before Sam and Dean ganked him. 

Both wanted to go home; now that they had one, returning to it felt like a victory. But they couldn't, now with half a dozen monsters out there. Sam pinpointed locales with his spell; then they followed up with research.

"Whatever it is in Illinois, it's been quiet," Sam said. "No bodies."

"Or it's a werewolf," Dean pointed out, "and the lunar cycle isn't right yet. We should tell Garth, maybe he can put someone on it."

"Why not – "

"Because I'm pretty sure this town you gave me has a siren," Dean replied. "Linden, Tennessee."

"Great. Did you check out – "

"Wisner, Louisiana? Yeah, definitely has a vampire on a killing spree, and pituitary glands are going missing from newly dead bodies in Carroll, Iowa."

"Kitsune?" Sam asked.

"Best bet. You find anything in the other cities?"

"Suspicious suicides in Reed City, Michigan. Not sure about Grandview, Missouri."

"Looks like it's a cross country trip for us," Dean said as he grabbed the keys. "Where do we start?"

Over the next two weeks, the brothers raced around the country. They discovered the monster in Grandview, Missouri was a djinn, and Dean took a nasty beating when they took out the crocotta in Reed City. 

Garth and his contacts managed to take down the vampire in Louisiana and the werewolf when it finally struck in Illinois. The Winchesters ganked the siren and then the kitsune.

 

Sam shook Dean awake the morning after the kitsune hunt. They'd crashed in Iowa for the night. 

"What? What?" Dean growled. 

"Dean, com'on, we need to go. Now."

"What?"

"Those omens we saw before the monster hounds and stuff appeared in South Carolina – "

"What about them?"

"They're popping up somewhere else," Sam said. "Seriously, Dean, two days out, and it's an eighteen hour drive!"

"Where?"

"Princeton, New Jersey." 

"What?"

Every molecule in Dean's body became alert. "No, that can't be... no."

"You wanna argue, or you wanna drive?"

"Let's go."

And they were out the door in ten minutes.

 

Dean prayed furiously, albeit silently, to Cas, telling him that the prophet could be in major danger. He hadn't even come back for his angel blade yet. Immediately Dean's mind went to the worst conclusion: something had happened to Castiel. 

His phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Dean?" the angel's voice replied over the phone.

"Cas? You're calling me?"

"I can't teleport right now without drawing too much attention," Cas said. At least he sounded sorry. 

"Cas, if this is another witch – "

"Angels are watching Kevin," Cas said. 

"Come again?"

"When I checked in with him a few days ago, I felt them."

"Are you running? Is that – "

"No, I'm here with Benny. Although he's not happy about it."

Dean smiled. "Okay, that's something. Look, Cas – "

"We can talk about that later, Dean," Cas interrupted. "The angels protecting Kevin didn't follow me, which leads me to believe their orders are to protect him and nothing else."

"That's good."

"No necessarily. Their orders are to protect the prophet, without his knowledge."

"Meaning?"

"They will protect him but not his mother or your friends."

"Angel bastards," Dean muttered. "So he's safe, at least. Sam and I will protect the hunter 'tweens and Tiger Mom."

"I don't understand."

"It's okay, Cas, I'll call you later I guess."

"I would like that. I am very happy to hear from you, Dean. Always."

"Cas, shut up," Dean replied playfully. He hung up, muttering, "Jerk."

"You make up with him?" Sam asked from behind the wheel.

 

"Where are we going?" Dean demanded when he took the wheel. 

Sam jerked awake to reply, "Uh, there's a cemetery... Tall Meadow Cemetery."

"Maybe you should sit in the back," Dean suggested.

Sam had already fallen back asleep.

 

They didn't have time to scout a warehouse or rent a trailer. They drove straight to the cemetery in Princeton just hours before monsters were predicted to touch down. They prepared outside another, smaller mausoleum. They had low ammo and no idea what would come through this time.

"Call Krissy," Sam said to Dean as they pressed more silver rounds. 

"Not yet."

"Dean – "

"Panicking them is not a good idea," Dean said. "Right now, we don't know if there's anything to worry about. There might be one pooch, we kill it, no problem."

"Right, because that's what happened the last time?"

"There's no time."

He was right; it was dusk.

The silence was oppressive. 

They waited.

And they waited.

And they waited.

"Sam, you sure about the omens?"

"Yes, they were the same ones that led us to Abbeville."

"Then, what the hell?"

 

Olivia Bannister knew the two meddlers that found her work in South Carolina would find her again, so she took countermeasures to ensure success. She picked a smaller mausoleum; after all, this time she need only pull two through, not twelve. 

She ordered the reaper she ensnared, Evonne, to teleport her into the building so no one would see her enter. Then she sent him to purgatory to complete their work. 

About an hour after the two idiots arrived, Evonne returned in a swirl of black smoke, which blustered into Olivia. 

"You have done well," Olivia heard someone else say with her mouth. 

'The two men in the cemetery, they're the ones – ' Olivia tried to speak, but she couldn't. The words echoed hugely in her head.

"Sleep now, I'm taking over," said the demon now possessing her body. "And those two, whoever they are, they're not important. I'll take care of them when I get around to it."

The demon turned its new body to face the reaper.

"Your name is Evonne?"

The reaper nodded. 

"I am your new master. You may call me Paimon. We have much work ahead of us."

They vanished just as dusk turned into night.

 

Dean and Sam kept watch until dawn, but nothing went in or out. After the sun came up, they inspected the marble tomb and found two hex bags.

"Maybe it didn't work?" Dean suggested. 

"We should destroy these," Sam said, "so they can't complete the ritual again."

They made quick work of it. Sam dropped the two talismans into the curse box. Dean torched the rest of the bags. 

"I say we pay the hunter 'tweens a visit," Dean said.

"What happened to not wanting to freak them out?"

"Just say we finished a job nearby and wanted to check in. They've got a guest room, right? We can crash there."

"But Kevin is in college, so he'd – "

"According to Cas, he's got angels protecting him."

"You're willing to trust angels? I mean besides Cas," Sam said. 

Dean didn't reply. 

"Couldn't hurt to stay a few days," Sam agreed. "It'd be nice to see Krissy again."

Dean dialed up Mrs. Tran.


End file.
